“Do you know how they pick a king?” he asked Letta curiously.
“I’m a slave, Theus. I don’t know anything like that,” she told him in a no-nonsense tone of voice.
Theus created a cushion of air that lifted the king from the floor. Though they were inside, and though he had expended unfathomable quantities of power over the course of the day’s extraordinary adventures, Theus found that the metal bands around his wrists continued to glow, and continued to deliver energy to him that allowed him to effortlessly carry out his actions. He added balls of floating light that accompanied the dead ruler.
With the king’s body floating between them, Theus and Letta slowly walked across the palace grounds, openly and visibly. They attracted attention immediately, and a large train of followers silently crept in their wake as they took the king towards the wing where the ceremonial rooms were located.
Guards opened doors for them, displaying both fear and respect.
Letta indicated which audience hall was the largest, and Theus bore the king into that room. He formed additional balls of light that floated peacefully in several places around the room, illuminating it, as he floated the body to a resting spot where it remained motionless.
“We are the white magicians,” Theus announced to the crowd that flowed into the hall, some curiously, some fearfully.
“We did not kill the king, but we have brought his body to the palace to be honored as appropriate,” he hadn’t thought out a speech, but he hoped he knew the main things he needed to say.
“We will help your new ruler to restore justice and goodness in the palace in Southsand. Donal is dead, I have fought him, and he is no more,” the proclamation brought an outburst of excited comments throughout the crowd, and a scattered number of cheers and claps.
“His evil god Ind’Petro has been destroyed too,” Theus added, just to make sure the court knew that the seeds of evil were not going to easily re-sprout in the palace. The room was silent, and then Theus heard the sound of men and women sobbing with joy.
“We will leave you now,” Theus told the audience. “We will be back tomorrow to learn how you propose to choose a new king, and how we can help. Do not plan to have a king who rules without guidance from a white magician,” he warned them. “It will be much better than relying on a black magician.”
He reached out his hand to Letta, who took it, and then the pair of them disappeared, as Theus stepped forward, moving them to a mountain valley outside the city.
“What’s going to happen? What do we do now?” Letta asked Theus after a silent moment spent surveying the landscape around them.
Theus looked up at the afternoon sky. The clouds from the earlier storm were beginning to tatter, and patches of blue were becoming visible.
“We’ll work our way back to the city, and find a nice inn where we can spend the night tonight, relaxing. Then tomorrow we’ll visit the palace and see what’s what,” he answered.
The next hours proved to follow Theus’s plan. The pair did travel back to the city, and found a nice inn with two rooms, in a part of Southsand on the opposite side of the city from the palace, a place where they were not recognized or known. They ate dinner in the common room and listened to the frenzied conversations and rumors that consumed every other person in the inn.
That night, Theus dreamed vivid dreams. He dreamed of Coriae welcoming him home, and Limber’s temple in Limber. He relived the battle with Donal in his dreams, and he saw Torella turn younger under his touch.
When he awoke, he was almost exhausted from the frenzied activity of his mind during the night, and he ate his breakfast in silence.
“Are you ready to return to the palace?” he asked Letta when their plates were cleared away.
“I’m ready for clean clothes,” she grumbled. “But yes, I’m ready to go to the palace, as long as you’ll be there.”
Together they walked through town, continuing to remain unrecognized until they reached the palace gates, where the guards instantly knew who they were, and stood at attention while urging them to enter.
“The Royal Council has assembled, and is anxious to speak to you,” an officer at the gate informed them. “I’m to accompany you to see them.” As he walked towards the palace building with them, a pair of servants fell in behind the group.
“Would you care for anything to eat or drink?” the officer asked, the servants ready to run the errand.
Theus gazed at the heap of debris that sat amidst the rest of the palace structure, all that was left of Donal’s tower. It provided a fitting symbol of the end of the evil that Donal and Ind’Petro had cast upon the palace. He only hoped that something better could be erected to be a permanent replacement for the terrible structure that had cast such a dark shadow over the city.
They were escorted to an ornate chamber in which an oval table was surrounded by a dozen seated members of the nobility. Theus and Letta were directed to join the nobles and were seated at a pair of empty seats.
“My most powerful lord and lady, we are pleased that you have joined our conclave today,” the man at the head of the table spoke deferentially.
“We’re pleased to be with you. We want to help whichever one of you will be the next king,” Theus spoke.
“My lord and lady, we’ve run into a problem,” the man spoke. “We’ve checked the records and laws, because this is the first time in two hundred years we’ve had a change in dynasty. The king’s son, Prince Napal, only died last year, and he had never married, so there are no other heirs.
“As a result, we’ve just determined that under the rules of consanguinity, there is an acknowledged and suitable candidate to be elevated to the throne,” the council leader paused, and he seemed to grimace.
“We have not yet informed our presumptive new ruler, because we wished to consult with you beforehand. We know that the ancient law seems to make it incumbent on us to select this lady to become the ruling queen, but if you have any objection, we will set her aside,” the man went to lengths to sound judicious and impartial as he spoke.
Theus had an inkling. For no reason, other than premonition, he jumped to a conclusion, one that made him break into a broad grin.
“You’re not going to tell me it’s the Lady Citrice, are you?” he asked bluntly. He had a flash of recollection of the redolent noble woman who had demanded he treat her gout, and who had half-heartedly seemed to try to seduce him. He looked over at Letta, who stared back at him with a blank expression.
“You are an all-knowing magician, my lord,” the nobleman bowed his head. “You are perhaps acquainted with the lady? Do you wish for us to choose another candidate?”
“Let us step aside and converse,” Theus decided to answer. He wanted to hear Letta’s thoughts about the unimaginable prospect of Lady Citrice being transformed into the queen of the nation.
“You’re going to say no, aren’t you?” Letta asked as soon as the two of them were in the hallway, apart from the others. “I think she’s an interesting choice,” Letta blurted out breathlessly.
Theus gave her a raised-eyebrow look.
“After all the darkness and horror we’ve had in Southsand in recent years, I’m sure that Citrice will make the palace a happier place,” Letta said.
“And you’re going to stay and be her advisor and help her make prudent decisions?” Theus emphasized Letta’s own likely role in the governance of the country. He knew that Letta possessed compassion and commonsense; he’d been the beneficiary of her management and advice during her period of slavery.
“Yes, I will; you will too, won’t you?” she asked.
“I will stay a few days to help see the transition take place, but then I want to go home,” he answered earnestly.
“Of course you do,” Letta agreed. “But your help in the beginning will be tremendous.”
They re-entered the meeting chamber, where Letta stood to announce their conclusion to the startled council.
And so, for the next
four weeks, Theus remained at the palace, helping Letta manage the transition of the astonished Southsand nation to the leadership of the kindly Queen Citrice. Theus suggested they recall all their troops from Steep Rise and put an end to piracy, while Letta helped the Queen arrange the removal of several noble tenants of the palace whose poisonous personalities Letta had seen from the unfiltered point of view of a servant in the palace.
Theus helped the palace kitchen prepare medicinal cures in large quantities, which the Queen distributed to the public at large, winning much praise and affection in the city. The residents of the palace and city at large did not know of such actions that Theus took, and held him largely in fear and awe for his widely-known defeat of both Donal and Ind’Petro.
Letta came to be seen by the Queen’s side at all times, except when she was with Theus practicing and discussing the use of white magical powers.
When Citrice celebrated her first month on the throne, the city and palace accepted her authority as just and proper, giving Theus confidence that he could finally begin his journey back towards Great Forks. He said his farewells to the noblemen and council members he had worked with, the guard officers he had practiced sword work with, and to the kitchen staff he had known from his present and previous times in Southsand.
Theus said his farewells on a beautiful morning, visiting Letta and the queen before he left.
“You promise you’ll come back soon?” Letta demanded.
“Within a few weeks,” he assured her.
“And you’ll bring your bride?” Citrice wanted to know. Theus had firmly told her about Coriae on the first day the Southsand noblewoman had been unexpectedly elevated to the throne, in an effort to forestall any unseemly behavior by the new queen. She had turned out to be smitten with the idea of Theus having a romance, and had behaved very well.
And then Theus was away, taking advantage of the sunlight to begin the long journey that was ahead of him as he traveled from the southernmost known city in the land to the northernmost one on the mainland.
At midday he arrived in Steep Rise, and he found that Amory was already serving as the king, under the regency of Redford and Lord Krabel. He appeared in the throne room and spoke briefly with the leaders of the country, learning that their return to power had been simple and relatively bloodless, once the Southsand soldiers had been withdrawn.
And then Theus pushed himself to travel as fast as he could, hoping against hope that he might make the entire journey unthinkably fast, in a single long day. He magically stepped across the prairies of unsettled lands, and went around or over mountain chains. He bypassed small villages and large cities. He took each magically-enhanced step and paused, then moved on again.
And so, he arrived on the outskirts of Great Forks as the western sky began to grow red. Even after all the days and weeks, he found that his bracelets still glowed slightly with energy, and he was still able to call upon the energy as he needed.
He walked into the city from his last landing, and headed directly to the Warrell mansion. The city was alive, bustling with a surprising level of activity that he only understood when he reached the mansion and the guard recognized him.
“Coming home for the Festival of Loving?” she enquired. “You’re as smart as they say!” she approved.
“It’s the Festival?” Theus asked.
“You didn’t know?” the guard chided him. “Maybe you’re not as clever as they say. Lady Coriae left in a carriage with Forgon and Amelia about a half hour ago.”
Theus smiled and thanked her for the information, then went inside the mansion. Many of the servants had already departed as well, leaving the home nearly empty. Theus managed to find Lord and Lady Warrell, and he enjoyed a warm welcome from them, as well as information on the itinerary of locations the young people expected to visit during the evening celebrations.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Lady Warrell asked in a mischievous voice as Theus prepared to leave the mansion to pursue Coriae.
He turned and looked at her, puzzled.
“You’ll want a mask,” she pointed out. “The kitchen staff should have some extra material available.”
Lorinse the steward ended up being the one to wield a pair of scissors to cut eye holes in a strip of black cloth, that he helpfully tied on Theus’s head.
Appropriately, if minimally disguised, Theus trotted out of the mansion property, and hurried along the city street. He quickly ran into crowded conditions that slowed his progress. Theus was tired after a long day of travel, and he was impatient to see Coriae after weeks of being separated from the girl.
Without hesitation, he called upon the well of energy that glowed in his wrist bands, and made himself invisible, then made himself fly up into the air above the crowd. He oriented himself by the patterns of the streets below, and flew towards the city center. He soon spotted the series of noble homes with balconies that looked out over the central square of the city, where throngs were gathered.
Forgon and Amelia and Coriae were supposed to be on one of those balconies, watching the revelry.
Theus gently floated down to a level directly in front of the balconies, and began to slowly peruse them, looking at the costumes and masks of the occupants of the balconies, searching for the party he wanted. And then he spotted them.
Coriae was sitting at the end of the balcony, next to Forgon, while Amelia was on his other side. Other people were on the balcony as well, chatting and laughing with one another, while a pair of musicians gently strummed lutes.
Theus moved to the end of the balcony next to Coriae, within inches of her virtually, and he studied her profile, such as he could see it where the mask didn’t obscure her features. He had finally reached her. He had finally returned to her. He recollected the alluring beauty that Ind’Petro had tried to seduce him with; in Coriae he knew he had a genuine person, an intelligent, complex, and beautiful woman who would help him, challenge him, and trust him.
A great bell sounded, and began to toll. Theus thought back to the Festival of Loving when he had not worn a mask, and not realized the custom he had exposed himself to. He grinned at the thought.
His hand slipped behind Coriae’s head, and his fingers brushed against her hair, the thick, fragrant hair that he loved to stroke when she rested her head upon his shoulder. He found the ends of the strings that held her mask in place, and he gave a tug, releasing the knot in the string.
Coriae’s mask started to drop, but Theus held onto the end of the string, and he lifted the mask away from her head. Her hands reached up in a startled reflex, trying to grab the unruly object, as she tried to press it back into place, but instead of dropping down as she expected, Theus pulled it upward and to the side, leaving her hands empty in front of her chin, in what appeared momentarily to be a gesture of supplication.
Theus released his invisibility spell, making Coriae jump in startlement at the sudden appearance in the unexpected location next to her off the balcony.
“You know the custom for the Festival of Gelate my lady; if a gentleman and lady happen to meet unmasked when the bell ceases to toll,” he told her, as he dangled her mask in one hand, while his other hand pulled on the simple knot behind his own head, and released his own mask.
“You’ve put yourself in grave danger,” Coriae instantly understood his intention and she displayed a serious expression. “Prepare to suffer the consequences.” Then she leaned over the railing between them, so that their lips met one another, in the beginning of a passionate kiss.
If you’ve enjoyed reading the Memory Stone series by Jeff Quyle, consider trying the Inner Seas Kingdoms series, featuring Kestrel, the elf-human hybrid. Read a selection from the opening book of the eight-volume series, The Healing Spring, below:
Kestrel sat in the forest, watching a cricket crawl along the branch next to him. It was unusual to see a cricket so high up in the tree, above the litter on the forest floor where most crickets resided, but the insect provided a distra
ction from his troubled thoughts. Crickets were considered an enjoyable snack by most elves, an easy source of nutrition with a nutty, earthy flavor that appealed to the elven palate. His hand darted out and grabbed the unfortunate climber, then popped it in his mouth, as he sat atop his favorite chestnut, stewing over the recent orders tht had arrived, calling for every elf of fighting age, every elf but him, to hurry south towards the double border, when a large force of men from Hydrotaz were invading the forest.
Kestrel had been excluded from the call to arms, and told to remain on duty in the central portion of the border, the area where the red stag deer maintained his dominance over the other local deer, an antlered patriarch whose large size and deep reddish-brown color set him apart from the rest of the herd; the red stag stood out so much that the elves used him as a reference point, naming that area of the forest after him, just as the one-eyed puma to the north and the tusked boars to the south provided other area references in the Eastern Forest closest to Hydrotaz.
There hadn’t been a war with the men of Hydrotaz in thirty years, and that had only been a minor skirmish back in the days before Kestrel was born. All the young starry-eyed elves in the western section of the Eastern Forest had longed for the prospect of glory and violence that came with fighting in a war, and now, based on the reports from down south, at last it was about to happen – for everyone except him.
Kestrel’s unhappy heritage, the fractional strain of human blood that tainted his appearance, made him suspect with regards to a war against the humans. When the time had come to engage in battle, the leaders of the elven forces had made the snap decision to not trust him in the fray, and had kept him away from the battle, where he couldn’t potentially betray his elven comrades. And so he stewed, and contemplated how to address his frustration. He’d end up in a fight with someone, sooner or later, he was sure. He’d just wait for the elven militia members to come back to their homes after the battle, and when the first one of them made some cheap, cutting remark about Kestrel missing the fighting, he’d end up in a fight that would let him land several satisfying blows on some too-smug elf.
Tangled Engagements (The Memory Stones Series Book 4) Page 29
